


Woodland at Dusk

by MoonyMischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, RS Fireside Tales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22489393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyMischief/pseuds/MoonyMischief
Summary: Remus has become a master at ignoring everything that's going wrong in his life. When he hears a voice in the woods that he really shouldn't, can he ignore that too?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44
Collections: RS Fireside Tales Vol.2





	Woodland at Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> RS Fireside Tales 2020 Submission  
> My prompt for this fest can be found in the end notes!

Remus held on to the edge of the kitchen counter top until his knuckles paled, until he could feel the faintest touch of splinters against his fingertips, until his hands began to cramp, and his arms ached. He ignored all the pain, just like he was ignoring a lot of things recently.

Things like the cold that permeated the walls of the dilapidated cottage, turning his breath to mist in the air, biting at any areas of exposed skin like a rabid dog and raising the hairs there. Things like the spiderwebs that kept getting caught in his hair as he moved between rooms, and the dust that danced around him like overeager Wrackspurts.

He was staring out of the small, grimy window and out over the barren fields towards the copse of trees that hinted at the vast forest that lay behind it, just over Black Hill. Remus tried to ignore the emptiness of the fields, he tried to ignore how the emptiness indicated that harvest season was over, October was long gone, and so were –

There was a scream to his left that made him jerk away from the counter before recognising it as the kettle he had put on the stove to boil. Making himself a cup of tea, minus the milk as he’d given the last of it to the cat, Remus tried to avoid thoughts of the landscape outside the window. There was a fog rolling down from the treeline across the fields, creeping up on his cottage like memories he wanted to forget, reaching for him with a cloying need to be noticed. He ignored it.

A quick _Incendio_ had the fireplace lit, it didn’t succeed in fighting off the chill, but he pulled up a worn orange armchair close to the flames and held out his hands for a brief respite. Only then did he take notice of what he’d been trying to avoid most of the morning. He hadn’t been living here all too long; rent in London was only achievable for him when shared with several people or paid for by rich roommates with a nice family inheritance, but this place was cheap, and remote. Not remote enough, however, that the previous inhabitants couldn’t maintain an up to date subscription to The Daily Prophet, one that continued to arrive on his doorstep each morning long after their departure. There was now a stack of newspapers next to the fire, the first from the day he’d moved in. November 2nd. He pulled the offending paper from the bottom of the pile and stared at the headline.

_DEATH EATER SIRIUS BLACK DEAD IN MURDER-SUICIDE._

Remus closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the sting behind them. He’d read the article, the day it had landed on his doorstep a month ago. He felt the twist of his stomach just as strongly now as he did on that day. He needed to read the article one more time before he let the flames take it. Burn it. Despite the feeling that the articles words would be etched into his brain for the rest of his short life no matter what he did with the physical copy in his hands. He ignored the truth of his thoughts and opened his eyes.

_MULTIPLE causalities have been reported following a duel between double-agent and ousted death eater Sirius Black and resistance fighter Peter Pettigrew yesterday in the streets of muggle London. Black, thought to be the man appointed secret keeper to the now deceased James Potter and Lily Potter (nee Evans), murdered multiple individuals including three unnamed Aurors who responded to the scene and muggle bystanders, before killing himself and Pettigrew._

_Reports claim the duel came about after Black betrayed the Potter’s whereabouts to He Who Shall Not Be Named. The Dark wizard used information from Black to aid in the murder of the young couple in their family home at Godric’s Hollow on Saturday Evening. Their close friend and fellow Gryffindor alumnus Peter Pettigrew confronted Sirius Black in what seemed to be an attempt to avenge his friends’ deaths. Eyewitness accounts claim the two were locked in a heated argument before wands were drawn and spells began firing. Aurors were called to the scene but not long after the duel began Black blew a hole in the small London street, killing all who were within the immediate vicinity. All that could be retrieved from the area of impact was a finger from the hand of Peter Pettigrew._

_The news comes as a further blow to those close to the Potter’s. As many around the country celebrate the fall of He Who Shall Not Be Named and the survival of their only son Harry Potter “The Boy Who Lived”, those close to the couple can’t help but feel like this further incident could have been avoided if Black had been taken into custody following the incident at Godric’s Hollow._

_An anonymous source tells the Prophet: “We all knew he would be their secret keeper, Black and Potter were inseparable at school. As soon as I heard they had been killed I knew he was the only one who could have betrayed them.”_

_Minister Bagnold made a statement addressing the tragedy this morning: “This type of unspeakable horror can only be conjured by the most depraved and unstable of wizards. Sirius Black showed little remorse for his betrayal and continued to display his cruel and twisted nature up until the moment he took his own life and the ones of those unfortunate enough to be in his path. Our deepest condolences go out to all the families affected by this act of terrorism, and we at the Ministry are already hard at work ensuring nothing of this magnitude will ever occur again.”_

_Peter Pettigrew will be honoured this coming Friday at a ceremony held in the atrium of the Ministry. It is reported that Pettigrew will be posthumously awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class for his bravery, fitting for such a young and talented wizard who lost his life far too soon whilst upholding the values of Gryffindor house and fighting against the darkness that consumed many of his peers._

There were multiple photographs attached to the article, but one drew Remus’ attention. He didn’t even know this photo existed, it showed them all by the lake, he recognised it as seventh year, after their exams had ended. James and Lily were in the middle of the small group, smiling at each other, his arm was wrapped around her waist holding her tight to his side. Sirius stood next to James, one arm around him, but he was looking over his should at Remus and batting away the arm Remus had jokingly rested on his head. Peter was the other side, next to Lily, he wasn’t touching her, but her arm was slung over his shoulder, pulling him in despite his obvious awkwardness. Remus was terrified the caption beneath the photograph would read: _Sirius Black pictured with all the people he murdered, and their werewolf friend he was secretly shagging behind their back._

It didn’t, obviously. He went unmentioned in the caption, even if he was the only survivor.

Remus crumpled the front page in his fist before throwing it into the flames. He sat and watched the paper edges darken and curl, watched their smiling faces disappear into ash and sat back into the chair. He ignored the feeling of the spring against his back, he ignored the tight tension in his stomach, and he ignored the tears threatening to spill over and onto his cheeks. Mostly though, Remus ignored the gaping hole of loneliness that threatened to consume every one of his thoughts, because all his friends were dead.

It didn’t matter if he didn’t believe Sirius was guilty. Why would it, he was dead. No one truly cared about what happened when everyone who was affected was gone. For everyone else the story was complete, the last page signed with ‘The End’, and it was filed away with every awful thing that happened during the war into a book titled ‘The Past’.

So there Remus sat, alone in this isolated cottage, with the cobwebs, and the dust, and the ignoring. If he let himself think his brain pressed against his skull and his jaw hurt with the pain of clenching his teeth, because he was angry. Alone and angry. His mind ran in circles like Padfoot chasing his tail. _This isn’t what Sirius would do, he would never do this._ But what if his thoughts were so clouded by love? Was it really love or just infatuation? Lust? _Could the last eleven years of his life be so clouded by a meaningless infatuation with a guy he thought he knew that he’d miss a truth this colossal?_ If that was the case, then wouldn’t James have been able to see the truth? _So, if it wasn’t Sirius then who?_

It went on and on in his mind like this for hours, until he would realise his bones were stiff from the cold and his skin numb. He didn’t know if he’d ever know the truth, even his heart was pounding out a beat of _innocentinnocentinnocentinnocent._ By the time the last pages of the papers were burning the sun was beginning to set. On most days the room would be bathed in its amber glow. Today, however, the suns warm light had been swallowed by the fog that loomed outside.

It was then that he finally moved from his seat, joints creaking and popping as he stood. He didn’t bother with food, although there was an offended sound coming from his stomach, and he walked towards the door where bent hooks held a few pieces of treasured clothing. He pulled on a thick woollen coat that fell to his knees, one of the few expensive items of clothing he owned and a present from Sirius last Christmas, and a maroon scarf Lily had made for him during her pregnancy-induced knitting phase. Without looking back Remus opened the door and stepped out into the fog.

The small gravel path led to a driveway that Remus couldn’t make out, even with his enhanced eyesight, and the two overgrown hedges that curved around the building, although bare, seemed to be the only barrier between his home and the onslaught of heavy, all-consuming mist. Hands in pockets he set out across the fields towards the woodland on Black Hill. The overturned earth crunched under his feet with a satisfying sound that seemed to echo for a moment before being snuffed out. Every breath in burnt cold, and every breath out felt sucked out, like an exorcism of the surrounding fog that had managed to sneak its way inside and make him remember what he was trying so hard not to. He couldn’t see the trees he was heading for now, but he knew the way, he’d walked to Black Hill every night since he’d moved here, both beast and man. He’d never say out loud to anyone that he’d moved here because of its proximity to a place with ‘Black’ in the title. It seemed to go without saying, and if he was to say it, he’d probably hear how ridiculous, reckless, and truly embarrassing it was. It was a good job no one knew where he was, or cared to find out, because explaining that you’d moved to a place with a name closely associated with your best friend widely believed to be a traitor and murderer wouldn’t reflect well on anyone, least of all a werewolf. Like many of the things in his life recently, Remus ignored it and moved thoughtlessly forward.

* * *

“Remus”

I don’t open my eyes to answer, “Yes Sirius?”

“Where will we live when we leave here?” his fingers are moving through my hair as I rest my head in his lap. I open one eye to look up at him and he’s not looking at me. He’s staring off over the grounds, a sad look on his face I don’t think he’d want me to see so I close my eyes again.

“I thought were getting a flat, in London?”

“Do you want that?” his fingers didn’t stop moving as he spoke.

“I want what I can afford, and considering you’re forcing me to let you pay for a flat in London, and I also want to be wherever you are, then yes.” I opened my eyes then to see him looking down at me with a small smile on his face.

“Okay but if you could live wherever you wanted, moneys a non issue, where would it be?”

“Honestly? You’ll call me lame”

“ _I would never_ ”

“Really?”

“Merlin Moony if you say a library or something, I can’t be held accountable for my reaction” 

I laughed and smacked at his thigh, “A cottage in the middle of the countryside, fields as far as the eye can see, with woods for us to run in on the full, and fireplace to curl up by and read books”

“You’re so lame, has anyone ever told you that?” He laughed, and I knew he didn’t really mean it, and I knew it was a bit lame anyway, so I shrugged in answer, “I love you though.”

I grinned up at him stupidly, “say that again” I demanded, leaning up on my arm and facing him.

“What? You’re so lame?” his jaw twitched giving him away as he tried to maintain a serious expression, so I leaned forward and kissed him, “I love you” he repeated when we parted for breath and I pushed my forehead against his.

“I love you too, Padfoot”

“If I had a tail right now it would wag”

“Oh, _shut up_ ”

* * *

“Remus”

Remus froze in place and closed his eyes. This was what he’d come here for. That voice. That voice saying his name. He’d heard it before, in these woods, on Black Hill. Its why he returned every day. Because Remus Lupin had finally found something he couldn’t ignore. Some unexplainable echo of a voice he loved, calling his name where no one else could hear it. He’d come back every day, hearing it only a handful of times, _‘Remus’_ it said in the voice of Sirius Black, before falling silent. It sounded like it was searching for him, waiting for him to respond, ' _I’m here, Sirius, come find me'_ but he never did. Giving in to a fantasy wasn’t the same as feeding it, Remus knew that at least. He waited for a minute, as he always did, hoping the voice might speak out again, but it never did, and Remus carried on ignoring his problems until he could return here, the next day at dusk, hoping to hear it one more time.

“Remus, please.”

_No._

_This wasn’t how this went._

_There was never a second time._

“Remus? Talk to me”

If he didn’t turn around could he just ignore this? He hadn’t been doing a good job of it so far. Is that why his secret indulgence had warped itself into some sick fantasy? Was this someone playing a trick on him? Had someone found out where he was, what he was doing with his evenings? He shook off the thought quickly, no, no one knew. It’s fine, this is just one more thing Remus had to ignore. He’d recently started ignoring a lot of things he never used to, this was just one more thing, one last good thing in his life he had to start ignoring. Remus Lupin was not allowed even the most minute moment of respite from his memories, just ignore it all.

So, he took a step forward without looking away from the narrow path ahead of him. The trail was thin, only wide enough for one person before the towering trees closed in on either side, they were thin and tall, but so dense they created the illusion of an impenetrable wall.

“Remus listen to me, please. I didn’t do it. I swear” The voice had risen an octave, panic stricken, and Remus picked up his pace, heart somehow racing in fear and burning with the pain of ignoring. He kept up the pace but could hear the crunch of the ground behind him as someone followed his path. This wasn’t right. There had never been more than an echo of his name, now there were words, and sounds, a someone attached to all of these things. He picked up the internal dregs of his Gryffindor courage and stopped turning around abruptly. The person following him collided into his chest.

* * *

Sirius Black. In Black Hill woods. Remus reached out a hand before remembering Sirius’ body had physically slammed into his own moments ago. This wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t dead. Sirius was _here._

He surged forward, grabbing hold of Sirius’ face between his hands, fingers cold but he could easily ignore it when he bought his lips towards Sirius’ and they were met with warmth and eager anticipation. He wanted to know more, but he didn’t want another second without Sirius’ lips against his own, so they stood in the forest, and they said nothing until dusk turned into night.

He had so many questions, needed so many answers, but he couldn’t focus on anything but Sirius being here, being a living breathing person that Remus could touch.

“Sirius” he breathed out; the cloud of his breath disappeared against Sirius’ skin.

“Remus” he said, a smile in his voice.

They laughed giddily and Remus realised his fingers were still pressed tightly against Sirius’ face, so he moved them away. Within moments though they were held between Sirius’ hands.

They didn’t say anything else for a moment. The two men stood silently on the dirt path, surrounded by imposing trees and thick fog and stared, so sincerely in awe at the presence of the other. Remus didn’t want to ignore this. He didn’t want this to be some made up fantasy dream he was having after weeks of solitude and mourning. He needed this, needed Sirius to be real, and here.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks, you git” Sirius snapped, pushing gently against Remus’ chest.

“Well I just noticed you weren’t a figment of my imagination”

“I’ve been sending a Patronus out looking for you, I don’t think I managed a corporeal one, I don’t know if it ever reached you”

“Just an echo I think” Remus was happy to find he hadn’t been going mad, and the woods weren’t haunted with the spirit of his dead lover. It was always soothing to know you weren’t slowly going insane.

When Remus finally moved away with a deep breath, he took the very real hand of Sirius Black and led him back through the woods, over the empty field and towards the shining light of the cottage in the distance. The fields didn’t look so barren now, instead they seemed like they were ready, waiting for the right time, full of opportunities for growth. Remus laughed to himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> “It is an ill thing to meet a man you thought dead in the woodland at dusk.”  
> Robert E. Howard, The Hour of the Dragon


End file.
